


The Hawking Extortion

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Coerced Consent, Community: trope_bingo, Crossdressing, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, Light Sadism, M/M, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Submission, indecent proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:30:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1262947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reposted from the kink meme. The prompt in short was, "Sheldon/Howard, Sheldon's office, maid uniform, dubcon". Mainly posted here to be a valid entry for my Trope Bingo card as "indecent proposal". </p><p>I've marked it non-con as the consent is initially coerced. Please consider your triggers and read the tags before you click the link.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hawking Extortion

**Author's Note:**

> TBBT characters belong to Chuck Lorre.
> 
> If who's dominant here is a factor in whether or not you read on, spoilers: it's Sheldon. Further spoilers: at one point he hits Howard lightly with a feather duster.
> 
> If whether or not the story is actually any good is a factor... well, two out of three commenters on part one on the kink meme hated it, verbosely. The third one liked it enough to get me to write four more parts. You decide.
> 
> As a general rule, read the tags, remember YKINMKBYKIOK, and that this fic isn't necessarily reflective of my kinks either.
> 
> Many thanks to Queerly for betaing and cheerleading.
> 
> * * *

Having completed his requisite lap of Caltech in his ridiculous outfit, Sheldon made his way back to his office, making no secret of the fact that he was fuming.  
  
Wolowitz being Wolowitz, he was seated on the edge of Sheldon’s desk, smirking like a particularly irritating imp, eager to see the aftermath. Sheldon stepped into his office, closing and locking the door behind himself.  
  
“You know, I didn’t think you’d have the nerve to do it. I – what are you doing?”  
  
Sheldon was closing the blinds, plunging the office into a semi-darkness, illuminated only by the desk lamp that he switched on.  
  
“You made one mistake when you selected a feminine outfit for me,” he said, keeping his voice tightly controlled as he dropped into his desk chair.  
  
“I did what now?”  
  
“You forgot your innate tendency to be afraid of strong women. Or indeed any women. Your mother, Bernadette... honestly, if you were a little more maladjusted you’d be as mute as Koothrappali around women. Now get off my desk and on your knees.”  
  
“Wh–”  
  
Sheldon struck him across the shoulders with his feather duster, and Howard was on the floor in seconds, his eyes wide, kneeling by Sheldon’s heel-clad feet. Sheldon took the opportunity to snap a picture with his phone.  
  
“What the hell, Sheldon?” Howard asked, looking up. His eyes were wide.  
  
Sheldon hooked one heel over the back of Howard’s shoulder, dragging his chair closer, and took another picture. “How turned on are you right now, Wolowitz? As if I can’t tell considering how ludicrously tight your pants are.” _Flash_.  
  
Howard licked his lips nervously. “I...”  
  
Sheldon pressed a different button on his phone. “I’m going to give you four minutes to make me come, or I’m going to send those photos to your fiancée,” he said.  
  
“ _What_? What are you even – Sheldon –”  
  
“Three minutes forty,” Sheldon said blandly, and Howard let out a despairing moan and pushed Sheldon’s skirt up to his waist, grappling with his underwear, until his breath was hot against Sheldon’s skin and Sheldon leaned back a little more.  
  
“You’re crazy,” Howard said.  
  
“This was _your_ idea,” Sheldon countered, and Howard looked ready to say something else, but then glanced at the timer counting down, which Sheldon had carefully placed so that they could both see it, and dove in tongue first.  
  
All the times his friends had wondered, either to each other or to his face, what Sheldon’s deal was, and it was as simple as so very many other people: power. Even while Howard’s mouth worked on him, desperate and fast – and it _was_ going some way toward making him come – Sheldon was the one in control of the situation.  
  
“You’re doing well,” he said.  
  
Howard lifted off of him with a wet sound. “How can you be this fucking calm?” he demanded, eyes dark with anger-confusion-arousal.  
  
“One minute twenty.”  
  
Howard went back to work. It seemed he’d discovered the need for technique over speed; at the forty second mark Sheldon’s nails dug into the arms of the chair. At twenty seconds he felt an unbidden moan rise from his throat. And, as the timer reached zero, he spilled over into Wolowitz’s mouth. Wolowitz gagged and coughed; Sheldon leaned down and laid a finger across his lips and Wolowitz closed his mouth and swallowed defiantly, glaring.  
  
“That will be all for now, Mr. Wolowitz,” Sheldon said, adjusting his clothing and kicking his heels off under the desk.  
  
“But... you... what?”  
  
“Close the door behind you.”  
  
“I’m still...” Howard gestured helplessly at his own crotch.  
  
“That’s not my problem. You got yourself into this situation; you get yourself out.”  
  
Howard scurried out, half bent over, probably bound for the closest bathroom. Sheldon flicked through the photos. They’d still be excellent blackmail material, apart from other potential uses, and he relocated them to a hidden folder.  
  
Part of him wondered if he should feel guilty for the way he’d treated his friend, but then again, at least he’d had the decency to keep their indiscretion private, instead of parading it in front of the cafeteria.  
  
Really, he’d done Howard a favor.

* * *

Howard crabwalked down the corridor from Sheldon’s office to the nearest men’s room, desperate to get somewhere that he could jerk off without anyone seeing him along the way. By the time that he locked himself in the stall and scrabbled his belt open, he was in actual pain, the zipper of his pants restricting his erection beyond what he could stand.

Everything was a mess in his head; he hadn’t expected Sheldon to turn the situation, the _humiliation_ , around on him like that. He definitely hadn’t expected Sheldon to order him to his knees, to threaten him with telling Bernadette, or to so clearly get off on the whole procedure.  
  
More than anything else, though, Howard hadn’t expected himself to _enjoy_ it.  
  
The asshole was right. Strong women made him weak at the knees. Even women who weren’t, strictly speaking, women. But Sheldon had nailed the tone of voice, the words; even the swat that he’d given out with the duster, that almost _playful_ little smack, had contributed to what was now nigh-unbearable arousal.  
  
Shaking, Howard raked down the zipper of his jeans, freed himself from his underwear, and started stroking. Fast and hard was the only way to do it.; this was not the time for mood lighting and wine. And try as he might to picture Katee Sackhoff, all he could see behind his closed eyelids was the look on Sheldon’s face at the moment he’d said, “Get on your knees.”  
  
He could still taste Sheldon, salty on his tongue, as his own come shot out, splattering his hand and shirt. He didn’t have the presence of mind to reach for the toilet paper immediately; his free hand was stuffed in his mouth, muting a name he had never expected to speak in this particular context.  
  
It took a while to clean up and compose himself enough to go back to his lab. He passed Sheldon’s office on the way. The door was ajar; Sheldon, dressed now in his usual work attire, stood facing one of his whiteboards, marker in hand. His phone lay on the desk. If Howard could be stealthy enough...  
  
Sheldon half-turned to alter something on a different board, and Howard fled.

* * *

The next thing he had planned for Sheldon was washing all of his underwear. Apart from anything else, it necessitated explaining to his mom why he wasn’t getting her to do it, but he eventually managed to leave the house with the cloth bag on the back of his Vespa.

He’d intended to make a bigger deal out of it. Plonk the bag down in front of Sheldon on Halo night, or something. Instead he just left it at Sheldon’s bedroom door with a note attached. Knowing Sheldon’s routine, he did it on Friday night, sneaking it down the hall while the others were absorbed in a discussion about Zork. That minimized the time that Sheldon would have to think about tormenting him.  
  
Saturday. Bernadette was making the last of the wedding preparations. Howard was thinking about those photos, about what his fiancée would think if she saw them. About whether Sheldon was going to send them through to her instead of washing his underwear – which was frankly stupid now that he thought about it.  
  
Bernadette’s phone chimed its message tone and she reached for it. Howard held his breath as her expression slipped from absorbed to annoyed.  
  
“What’s wrong, honey?”  
  
“Amy’s telling me she doesn’t think that her shoes fit. We all got them specially sized and dyed to match the dresses!”  
  
Howard exhaled, and tried not to think about dresses, short black skirts pulled taut across slim hips, lacy underwear concealing something not usually to be found beneath a skirt...  
  
His own phone beeped while Bernadette was in the shower.  
  
 _For your information, there’s no problem with Amy’s shoes. I asked her to send that message. Do you go tense every time Bernadette’s phone beeps?_  
  
Fuck. Fuckfuck _fuck_. How much had Sheldon told Amy? Had Amy asked him why she was being pulled into this act of subterfuge?  
  
Had Sheldon _shown_ her?  
  
Howard was torn by the agony of remorse and a painful feeling of arousal. He didn’t know if he wanted Amy to be a part of this or not. Surely Sheldon wouldn’t have shown her, not with the questions that would have arisen as to why he would let Howard suck him off but not let her so much as kiss him.  
  
The memory of being on his knees, working Sheldon frantically with his mouth, looking up to see the calculating look on Sheldon’s face, tempered only by the way that his lips had parted and he had sighed when at last Howard had drawn his orgasm from him, drove Howard into the shower before Bernadette was finished. Although the space was too small for two – even two small people – once he was inside her, her back pushed up against the cool tiles, her legs around his waist as he cupped her ass and leaned his head against her shoulder, it didn’t seem too small at all.  
  
The off-key note was that yes, when Bernadette’s phone beeped again in the other room, Howard heard it even over the running water. But he didn’t go tense – except to then let go, spilling over into Bernadette’s familiar soft heat, but thinking of his own grasping desperate hand and Sheldon’s cool blue eyes.

* * *

Monday morning, Howard was in an agony of expectant waiting, certain that at any minute his phone would go off and it’d be Bernadette, ready to merrily decapitate him and play football with his severed head. He and Sheldon didn’t have much occasion to cross paths at Caltech except in the cafeteria, but who knew what might make Sheldon decide to send the photos? For all Howard knew, Sheldon was in his office with the door locked, stroking himself with one hand and typing in Bernadette’s number with the other.

But everything seemed to be normal, even at lunchtime, when Raj side-eyed him a little for not being as loquacious as usual.  
  
Sheldon’s gaze lingered on him between mouthfuls of cobb salad. Howard attempted not to squirm under it.  
  
“I have the paperwork you wanted me to review, Wolowitz,” Sheldon said as the four of them neared the end of their meals.  
  
Howard almost said, “What paperwork?” and then realized what Sheldon was actually saying. “Oh, thanks.”  
  
“Why don’t you come by my office?”  
  
“Sounds great.”  
  
“What paperwork?” Leonard asked, because apparently even the most plausible of cover stories could be pulled apart, _thank you Leonard_. Howard braced himself for the stammering.  
  
“Just a contract relating to NASA’s rights over Wolowitz’s scientific contributions while he’s up there.” Sheldon looked Howard right in the eye. “I didn’t want him unknowingly signing his soul away to the devil, as it were.”  
  
“Wouldn’t a lawyer be a better judge of his rights?” Raj asked.  
  
“Oh, if anything needs changing we can get someone else involved. I just wanted to put it into language he, as an engineer, would understand.”  
  
Howard understood, all right, and seethed all the way to Sheldon’s office.

* * *

“Do you have to make me look so stupid in front of the others?” Howard seethed as soon as the door was closed behind them.  
  
Sheldon raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that you were doing a good enough job on your own.”  
  
“Give me your phone.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Give me your damn phone.”  
  
Sheldon extracted his phone from his pocket and held it over his head. He didn’t wave it around, or wiggle it temptingly, just held it. Given the height difference between the two, and the improbable length of Sheldon’s arms, Howard estimated its distance from his outstretched hand at about six inches. If he jumped...  
  
Sheldon stepped back, cat-quick, and Howard sprawled on the floor at his feet. Sheldon deposited the phone on his desk.  
  
“This is just stupid.”  
  
“No, stupid was expecting me to dress as a maid and not expecting repercussions,” Sheldon countered. He scooped up Howard’s laundry bag and dropped it onto his chest.  
  
Howard closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Sheldon, what can I do to get you to delete those pictures?”  
  
“Get off the floor, for one thing.” Sheldon sounded dispassionate. Howard opened his eyes and rolled to his feet, only to be pushed down into Sheldon’s desk chair. Sheldon rested a hand on Howard’s shoulder, keeping him in place, as his free hand worked his pants open. “Did you get off after last time?”  
  
“Yes.” There was no sense in lying.  
  
“I thought you would have.” Sheldon guided the head of his cock against Howard’s lips. “Do it, go on.”  
  
Howard leaned forward a little, and the hand on his shoulder slipped to the back of his neck. He paused with his lips brushing the tip of Sheldon’s cock. “No more photos?”  
  
Sheldon laughed, a brief, brittle sound, and shoved the phone out of reach. “Better?”  
  
“Yes.” And Howard opened his mouth. There was no countdown this time, no deadline hanging over his head, and he used the time, used it to take back a little control from Sheldon, until Sheldon was making a string of most agreeable whimpery noises and he was grasping at the desk to retain his balance.

* * *

Sheldon deleted the photos one by one. Howard checked. He was surprised to see just how aroused his own face looked as he’d raced the clock to bring Sheldon off.

* * *

Howard was expecting to have to make another run to the bathroom, to have another feverish jerk-off in one of the stalls, but when he made a move for the door Sheldon stopped him, catching his wrist. Howard halted. Even with the damn pictures gone, he didn’t want to antagonize Sheldon. For all he knew, Sheldon was still balancing the payback scales in his mind. There _was_ the incident with Howard’s mother’s clothing adventures to consider, for one thing. Howard didn’t for a second feel like he was all the way off the hook.

Without words, Sheldon coaxed him to sit on the edge of the desk. Howard felt ridiculous, his feet dangling above the ground, but the feeling didn’t last for long when Sheldon’s palm pressed against the front of his pants. Then it was traded out for arousal and confusion.  
  
“Sheldon... what...”  
  
“Just be quiet,” Sheldon said, and slid his long fingers through the opening afforded to him by Howard’s strained zipper. They were a little cool, and he still seemed detached, as if he was completing a task that was perhaps not boring, but simply not very compelling.  
  
Howard was incapable of remaining _entirely_ quiet, but he tried.  
  
Sheldon’s forehead rested against his as he worked Howard’s cock. Howard could hear him murmuring something about reciprocity. His breath smelled faintly of Roquefort and red wine vinaigrette; when Howard tilted his head back and captured Sheldon’s mouth in a short, clumsy kiss, his lips tasted of the same.  
  
Sheldon was more organized about the inevitable conclusion than Howard had been the time in the bathroom; as soon as Howard got to the point of no return he felt the rough-soft brush of tissues against the head of his cock. Sheldon wiped him off with impartial efficiency, tossed the tissues in the trash, and took a step back to allow Howard to compose himself.

* * *

“Where do we go from here?” Howard asked once everything was tucked back where it belonged, his face flushed.  
  
“Back to normal.” Sheldon felt surprised; he hadn’t considered that they would do anything else. It wasn’t as if they could carry on with this; he didn’t have the pictures any more, and the combination of Howard’s impending wedding and trip into space with Sheldon’s own often puzzling relationship with Amy didn’t exactly bode well for a long-term dalliance of any sort. Besides, Wolowitz had passed his paper on, as requested; Sheldon didn’t need to hang anything over his head any more anyway.  
  
“After _this_?”  
  
“Are you telling me that you can’t find some way to pretend that none of this has ever happened?” Sheldon sat down in his desk chair, attempting to ignore the fact that Howard was still sitting on the edge of the desk.  
  
“You... you were the one who knew I’d enjoy it.” Howard slid off the desk, standing over Sheldon, folding his arms. “You were the one who figured it out. And you expect me to just _forget_ that? It’s kind of one of the major keys to my psyche, and you want me to pretend it never happened?”  
  
“Yes,” Sheldon said simply.  
  
Howard looked down at him for a long moment, mouth gaping like a goldfish, and then turned on his heel and walked out. He didn’t quite slam the door, but it was close.  
  
Sheldon closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. There was the level of power and control brought about by holding someone’s relationship to ransom... and then there was the level of power brought about by relinquishing that control and letting Wolowitz’s mind work against itself.  
  
In the end, he’d gotten more out of it than he’d expected... and so, in a way, had Wolowitz. Who knew, maybe what he had learned about his desire to be controlled by strong women would ultimately be beneficial in his relationship with Bernadette? He could use it to his advantage, learn to overcome it, or he could revel in the pleasure of being the submissive partner.  
  
Sheldon dismissed those thoughts, and turned his computer on. He was drafting a few clever remarks to say to Stephen Hawking, and he wanted to get them word-perfect, now that he knew that he had gotten his way.


End file.
